“I have been closely watched, supreme mistress and kept very busy. It would have aroused too much suspicion for me to be absent. Even now I may be being sought.” O’tukka lowered his eyes, focusing on her diamond encrusted black shoes. The supreme mistress laughed a mocking laugh.
“The highly sought after Great Shaman O’tukka, hey? Perhaps I should be bowing to you. Is that what you want?” The supreme mistress elegantly descended the few steps from her throne and stood before the great shaman.
“I do not, supreme mistress. I only did not wish to jeopardise my mission.” She touched him on the shoulder with her slender outstretched finger and began circling him, dragging her long painted fingernail gently around his upper torso.
“And how goes your mission?” Sylestra stood in front of him once more and due to her height over his, he found himself looking directly at her ample cleavage which was masterfully enhanced by her well designed and exquisitely decorated dress. He lowered his eyes once more.
“The Gate was successful, supreme mistress.”
“That much I know,” screamed Sylestra. “I sent a scout who confirmed that for me. Where does it lead, to the mother world?” The supreme mistress stood menacingly before him.
“I don’t believe it is the mother world, supreme mistress, but it is dominated by humans.” O’tukka chanced a glance at her eyes and noticed her shock and perhaps a little hope from his words.
“So what makes you so sure that this is not the mother world?” She cupped his chin and forced him to look into her eyes.
“The Black Skull tribe have battled the humans and dwarves and taken them captive.” O’tukka noticed Sylestra’s eyebrow rise slightly as he mentioned the dwarves but she allowed him to continue.
“A few of the human captives have willingly shared information about their history. I prodded them on their knowledge of dragons and their reply was that they were a myth. There was no deceit in their eyes. They also talk of another race — Elves. They say they are a long-lived race like the dwarves and thrive on a continent north of their own. Neither your history books nor those of the Black Skull make mention of such a race and the world’s geography also does not match. I believe this was the world the humans and dwarves fled to during the time of the dragons’ wrath.”
The supreme mistress listened intently to his viewpoint and looked thoughtful. “Did you detect the presence of the goddess Nefari on this world?” Sylestra turned away from him and delicately stepped back up the stairs.
“I did not, but the goddess does not speak to me as she does to you,” he replied allowing himself to take a deep breath.
“She does not get along well with your god Gr’guck, so her silence should not be surprising to you.” Sylestra sat down on her lofty throne and crossed her legs, revealing the right leg all the way up to her hip.
“My allegiance to Gr’guck is necessary, supreme mistress, and was at your bidding.” O’tukka bowed his head low and hoped he had not overstepped his mark.
“Of course it is, and was, and the allegiance needs to remain so. I need to visit this world of humans.”
It was O’tukka’s turn to be shocked. “I would advise against that supreme mistress. The Gate is well observed on both sides and if your goddess is not present on the other side you will be without power.”
Sylestra leant forward in her throne. “I am never without power O’tukka!” The light in the room dimmed to accentuate her point.
“I’m sorry, supreme mistress. I only don’t wish to see any harm come to you,” said O’tukka trying to calm her.
“Do you not know?” she almost whispered, “how touched I am by your concern O’tukka. Come to my private chamber and tell me all you know of this human world.” She rose and beckoned him to follow her.
O’tukka waited for the supreme mistress to sit down in her high-backed chair behind the desk before he took a seat.
“You will get me through the Gate tonight.” There was no room for negotiating in her voice.
“That gives me very little time to make arrangements, supreme mistress. Perhaps a day or two?” O’tukka shifted about in his chair and tried to avoid eye contact with the powerful woman.
“See it done for tonight — an hour after midnight when most are sleeping.” Her raised voice told him not to push the issue any further.
“May I ask the reason for such urgency?” asked O’tukka tentatively.
“You may — I desire some dwarf captives.”
Rescue Plans
The new city gates were wide open and Decker looked northward out over the great chasm which until a couple of weeks ago didn’t exist. The well-travelled road bypassing farmland and connecting Arthea to Kethlon had been severed by a large earthquake. He had been on top of the city walls when Master Pilk’s spell opened up the ground beneath the charging orc army and had grabbed hold of Cressida’s hand to lead her to safety. The shaking of the walls had subsided before he could do so and he had stood there overlooking the carnage still holding tight to her hand.
His relationship with Cressida had been perhaps the only good thing to come out of the battle. That and the fact that he had been granted a new title as master ranger and as such had been given some land.
The view from the top of the wall, presented a large crack in the ground shaped like a great, long-dead tree which spanned the length of the northern city wall and beyond. Some of the ‘branches’ of this tree neared the high stone wall by a mere five paces, and yet the well-built structure still stood — cracked and damaged yes, but it still stood — a testament to the workmanship of the Goldfist dwarves who had been instrumental in constructing it hundreds of years earlier.
Decker expected to see those very dwarves any moment now; some of them no doubt old enough to remember the wall’s original construction.
Overhead Decker heard the noise of banging hammers on stone and steel wedge, along with the occasional loud crash as some unsafe parts of the wall were forced to the ground. This work was being carried out by some of the dwarves who had helped in the city’s defence along with the human masons and other craftsmen of Arthea and the surrounding regions.
It was nearing the end of a long hot summer and the large fluffy white clouds far above did little to cool the oppressive heat this day, but still the workers continued on; lot’s still needed to be done to repair and secure the city.
Many silently called the newly formed gorge ‘Pilks Gorge’ after the witty, yet scatterbrained little wizard who had created it; but after determining his great displeasure at this name, it was officially named ‘Victory Gorge’. It had been so named because this magically created earthquake proved instrumental in saving the city from being overrun by a horde or orcs.
Decker heard the dwarves before he caught sight of them coming over the top of a small rise in the distance. A thousand dwarves marched slowly towards the city with carts full of tools and materials being pulled along by strong draft horses; stone masons, metal smiths and engineers were surrounded by hundreds of battle-ready dwarves.
Leading the large group, dressed regally in his mithril battle garb was King Buster; perfectly made mithril chain mail, accompanied with mithril plated spaulders and gauntlets along with heavy greaves and an open-faced helmet, carrying his great axe over one shoulder, this dwarf looked ready and able to handle any situation.
The dwarves were taking no chances with being ambushed again along the road connecting Arthea to the great dwarven city of Corwyn, located in the Jasper Ranges.
Aside from repairing the city walls and building a new bridge, they had come to build a memorial wall in the city’s burial ground with a large bronze plaque listing all those who lost their lives defending this city; the dwarves who perished on the road to Arthea’s aid would be among them.
King Buster led his dwarves to the edge of the gorge and halted. Once the noise died down as all the other dwarves halted behind him, King Buster shouted out across the gorge.
“How in Vala’s name
do ye expect us to get over there?” King Buster pointed directly at Decker. The master ranger smiled and took a few steps closer to the edge of the gorge.
“Welcome King Buster. I believe that is the very problem you’re here to solve,” said Decker playfully.
“Bah,” he replied with a wave of his hand, “We can’t be buildin’ a bridge in a day, ya know. How do we get across now?” King Buster put his hands on his hips.
“I’m sorry to say that you’ll need to follow it around and enter via the western gate.” Decker’s smile betrayed the genuineness of his comment.
“We been marchin’ since early yesterday, now you want us to march another hour or so?” complained the dwarven king. But he didn’t wait for a reply before he ordered his dwarves into a march. Decker watched on as he ordered some of the materials to be left there ready to start work in the morning and then he marched on still muttering loudly to himself. Decker shook his head.
* * *
“Where have you been?” asked General Krak’too
“I had some things to attend to back home and some items to collect.” O’tukka walked to the chair near the general’s desk and took a seat. The general’s office was a simple log cabin, constructed from the felled trees of Bilwarks Grove and had been hastily constructed, as had the rest of Fort Dega — Dega being the orcish word for vengeance. The office was lightly furnished with a small desk and four chairs, including the general’s, which had been carted from the orcs’ capital city, Gnash.
“Well the dwarves have now reached Arthea. Without more reinforcements, they were far too many for us to risk attacking especially without you here.” General Krak’too sounded annoyed. Normally Great Shaman O’tukka would put the general back on his heels but he was still somewhat off balance after his visit with the supreme mistress so he let it go. “And now the fierce one requests our presence before sunrise on Ki’arantha.”
“Both of us?” O’tukka gripped the armrests of his chair tightly and leant forward. He couldn’t imagine why Gilkan the fierce one would want to see them both so early in the morning.
“Yes. A messenger delivered a note from him about an hour ago. He mentions that he has a surprise for us. I find his timing very poor. The dwarves and humans could very well march on us tomorrow.” Krak’too pointed to a crumpled up piece of paper on his desk. O’tukka picked it up and un-crumpled it. Upon reading it he knew it to be a direct order with no room to argue. He scrunched it up once more and tossed it back onto the general’s desk.
“We are as ready as we can be, general. There is always at least one shaman the other side of the Gate restoring its lost power so we will not be without magical defence should they attack.”
“That’s true, but I would feel better if I could be alerted immediately if an attack should come.” O’tukka realised at once that the general was querying whether he could arrange such a thing.
“I could enchant two small crystals, general, that would glow when a release word was uttered. It’d need to be activated from the Ki’aranthan side as magic does not seem to flow between the two worlds. Would this suffice?” replied O’tukka after some thought.
“Yes it would. See to it at once.”
Great Shaman O’tukka took that as his cue to leave, so he rose up from his chair and exited the cabin.
* * *
“We leave tonight.” Vik pulled out a small pack and started putting some items into it. Trent looked a little reluctant which annoyed him. There was a chance, small though it was, that both their fathers were still alive and they had made plans to attempt a rescue. Vik didn’t want to go alone, although he would if it came to it. His mind was made up.
The image of the last time he saw his father kept haunting him. He had been in full retreat with a mass of large, furious orcs hot on his heels. Vik and Trent ran out from behind a rock to direct the fleeing soldiers to Master Pilks summoned gates. Pilk forced them both through one before the soldiers arrived.
On the other side Vik watched eagerly, waiting for his father to come through. Every time a soldier appeared that wasn’t his father his heart sank a little more until Master Pilk finally came through and closed the last magic gate behind him. The realisation that he would never see his father again hit Vik like a ton of bricks. When he found out about these new orcs taking captives a little hope was rekindled and now it had grown so much that he was almost sure his father was still alive.
“The dwarves just arrived, Vik. Don’t you think they’ll be anxious to attack the orcs?” Trent sat on the edge of his bed and watched Vik pack his bag.
“You said you were with me. Have you changed your mind?” said Vik disappointed.
“I didn’t say I changed my mind. I just thought maybe we should give the dwarves a chance to organise a strike on the fort. They lost soldiers too, so I’m sure they’ll be anxious to find out what has happened to them.” Vik stopped packing his bag for a moment and glared at his friend.
“We’ve been through this, Trent. Every hour they delay is another hour our fathers are in danger. I need to find out if they are OK. I can’t sleep lately. We have seen so much death. I keep reliving the attack on Arthea in my dreams and every soldier that falls turns into my mother or my sister or my father. My mother and sister are gone I know, but if there is a chance I can get my father back I have to try.” Vik started stuffing things into his pack more vigorously. He looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye expecting a reply. Trent said nothing — he simply stood up and got out his own pack and started to fill it.
“What’s the plan, Vik?” asked Trent after they had both packed their bags.
“We’ll have to get a look at the fort first. Then we’ll come up with a way to get in undetected.” Vik thought he heard a noise at the door so he held up his hand to silence Trent.
He tiptoed quietly over to the bedroom door and with one quick motion turned the handle and pulled the door open. Tumbling to the floor near his feet, Jaz looked up at him sheepishly as she swept her long black hair out of her face.
“What are you up to?” Vik raised his voice and glared at her as she gingerly picked herself up off the ground. She looked so much like her mother as she smiled mischievously.
“I just came up to see if you boys would like a drink.” It was an obvious lie, Vik knew. Jaz would never come and ask them if they wanted a drink. More likely she’d come and demand them to fetch one. As attractive as the girl was, Vik had found his feelings for her lessen the more he came to know her. She had the stubbornness of both her uncle, Pilk, and her mother Cressida along with their intelligence which often made her come across as arrogant. She was also inclined to use her looks to get her own way which really irritated Vik.
“I’ll have a cup of choco then and I’m sure Trent would like a cup too.” Vik smiled at her smugly as her smile transformed into a scowl.
“Go get it yourself,” replied Jaz as she turned to leave. He could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears. Vik jumped in her way and held her by the shoulders. A few weeks earlier he never would have dared lay his hands on her in such a way, but he now considered her as more of an annoying sister than a potential girlfriend.
“Get your hands off me you brute.” Jaz slapped at his arms trying to push them away but Vik was far too strong for that.
“How much did you overhear?” Vik pushed her back into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
“Enough to get you two into lots of trouble with Uncle Pilk. But I won’t say a word if you let me come along with you.” Vik let her go and stared into her eyes, knowing at once that she was serious.
“Ha! You’ll only slow us down and ensure we get caught with all the noise you make.” Vik looked at Trent for some support but his friend was still a little infatuated with this girl.
“A cleric may come in handy, Vik. What if we get hurt and find ourselves being chased by orcs?” There it was — Vik was outnumbered. He had to admit that the girl had some healing skills even though Trent
had wrongly titled her as a cleric. She had only begun formal training to become a cleric earlier this year. He also realised that he had little choice. If he didn’t agree to bring her along she would rat them out to Master Pilk and their expedition would be over before it started.
“OK, you can come. But how do you plan on getting out of your bedroom without your mother noticing?”
“Leave that to me.” Jaz smiled a mischievous smile, walked around Vik and left the room.
* * *
“Welcome to Arthea, King Buster.” Duke Angus rose from his chair and gave the dwarven king a slight bow. The burly dwarf stormed towards him after his own slight bow.
“We ‘ave some smelly orcs ta visit, Duke Angus, an’ th’ sooner th’ better.” The dwarf slammed his open palmed hands down on the duke’s desk as he leaned over. “Not likin’ th’ idea that some of me kin are bein’ held captive by stinkin’ orcs on a hostile world.”
“I don’t like the idea much myself, my lord, but charging in with an army without knowing what we truly face could be disastrous.” Duke Angus sat back down and leaned back in his chair, gesturing for the dwarven king to do likewise.
“Ya can stop calling me that ‘my lord’ rubbish right now an’ start tellin’ me when we plan on attackin’” King Buster did take a seat but was sitting right on the edge of it, gripping the armrests tightly.
“I have sent for General Kehar, General Ludko and Master Pilk. They will be here shortly and we can start discussing battle plans.” This seemed to calm the king down and he eventually sat back in his chair looking a little more relaxed. Duke Angus changed the subject and started asking the dwarven king about his construction plans.
The Gate - An Ancient Connection Page 2
